


Momentary Lapse(s) of Restraint

by idylliclarcenist



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Choking, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Repressed Bisexuality, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15436587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idylliclarcenist/pseuds/idylliclarcenist
Summary: An ordinary night out at the club turns into much more when Bob sweeps a sex-deprived One Two away to the back room for some relief. A few simple words and one mind-numbing blowjob later, One Two is left to question why he can't let one stupid fucking night go.





	Momentary Lapse(s) of Restraint

From the rasp of stubble against his mouth to the distinctly broad, calloused hands around his neck, One Two _knew_ this was fucked up. A kiss that never should have happened. As a slow, shaky moan slipped from those rough lips and hotly into his mouth, tone rich with testosterone, his brow knit in half-disgust.  
  
Because that was _Bob's_ voice. His hands, and most importantly, his teeth that currently nibbled seductively on the taller man's lower lip.  
  
It was remarkably different from Stella. Her dainty fingertips, the mousy nape of her neck, the way she ducked her head to avoid his eyes. Bob was all strength, all push-back, all intensity and heart-stoked eye-contact— _Jesus, the fucking eye-contact._  
  
It tempted him enough to outright piss him off.  
  
One Two slammed Bob against the wall, hearing his breath hitch, feeling his own hair squeezed tautly in one clenched fist. From the outside, maybe it'd look closer to a scuffle—a grappling, huffing mess of limbs clambering hungrily for the upper hand. On the inside, it couldn't have been more of a unity, and it'd been a long fucking time coming. At least, that was the kind of judgmental look that Mumbles had been giving him across the pool table.  
  
Catching the subtlest hint of a smirk on Bob's lips, One Two took a fistful of his shirt and yanked hard. "Don't," he growled, directed at whatever lingered on the tip of his tongue.  
  
Bob licked his lips innocently, brows high.  
  
"I mean it, Bob. And wipe that fucking smirk off your face before I find my head and put it on straight again."  
  
He hummed. "Funny choice of words."  
  
One Two slid a hand up his neck, just short of seizing it in his grasp. A patronizing little sound left Bob's lips, even as his head tilted upward for breath. "I'll be good," he finally conceded from high in his throat. His hands braced themselves comfortably at One Two's hips, dragging him closer, rolling his hips to grind their crotches together. He relished in the sound it earned, something between a grunt and a hiss.  
  
"If you tell _anyone_ about this," he breathed in, unable to relax. He paused, detouring, searching his head for an excuse. "I'm drunk. That's why."  
  
Bob laughed. "Half a Cuba Libre in? Like fuck you are."  
  
One Two frowned intently. He searched his head for something more convincing.  
  
Before one came to him, his friend's arms slid around his neck to distract him instead, smile a disconcerting cross between reassuring and mischievous. "Relax. I told you." His fingertips combed his hair, soothing his scalp. "I'm only as naughty as you want me to be."  
  
_That voice again._ Soft, throaty, something he hadn't heard since he laid it on thick with the accountant's husband over the phone. He felt a familiar tremor up his own spine; something he'd commonly associated with repulsion, but like this, with nobody else around them—he couldn't deny the way it spread to his fingertips, compelling him to touch as naturally as the urge to scratch an itch. This time, trying his damnedest to focus on the present, he let them.  
  
"So?" he went on in a drawl, nipping at One Two's neck, laying very calculated kisses across the rugged skin there. "How _naughty_ do you want it, One Two? On my knees?"  
  
"Christ." he spat through his teeth, head thudding back against the wall.  
  
Bob's hands slid under his shirt, feeling his torso. "Yeah?" he murmured enticingly, rubbing his lips against the taut skin of his collarbone. "Your cock in my mouth, huh? Picture it. You want me to make you forget your fuckin' _name?"_  
  
Against his own volition, something soft slipped from his own increasingly weak-willed lips. The visual was _a lot._ This was his best mate, and the thought of him staring upwards teary-eyed and full-mouthed was a battle between titillating and downright _unnatural_. A surge of adrenaline he wasn't sure how to classify. His brows knit, body rife with tension, feeling the buttons of his jeans pried open as Bob sank lower and lower to his knees.  
  
With every kiss to his exposed torso, his head spun with the realization of how far this was going to go. Shit, it was happening _._  
  
He arched toward Bob's mouth, casting a hand over the buzzed surface of his hair as he tugged down his boxers. He felt Bob breathe in eagerly at the sight of his cock, bobbing heavily between his legs, and all at once he remembered how long he must have been wanting this. For that reason, it was especially odd to watch him abruptly hesitate.  
  
"What?" he muttered impatiently.  
  
He wordlessly rose a hand, carefully wrapping that pleasantly calloused palm around the velvety skin of One Two's dick. He practically melted, hips jarring, and he was already grasping for air when Bob began to gingerly pump and pivot his wrist. The question, for a while, went unattended to: _why was he looking at him like that?_  
  
Then he answered. "I think I'm in love with you."  
  
One Two's heart plunged into his stomach. "No—fuck's sake, Bob, don't say—just suck me off, you twat."  
  
And Bob obeyed without complaint, but as his eyes swept up to catch his friend's expression, the humility in them was almost painful. Slack-jawed, red-faced and hard as a rock himself, no doubt, but not at the cost of something else distinctly heartfelt written on his face. "I'm serious," he said, eyes flitting back down momentarily to concentrate on his ministrations.  
  
"You are not." One Two growled back, still squirming in pleasure. "Shut up."  
  
Bob pressed his lips flush to the hot glans of One Two's dick, relishing in the sound it incited. "Yeah," he disagreed, sounding distant, preoccupied with his own revelation. He made no attempt to privatize it. "I love you, One Two."  
  
Like everything else that'd happened between them that night, hearing him say it outright was conflicting and painful.  
  
As he stared exasperatedly downward, though, he realized several important details. Bob's chest expanding with a wide, panicked breath, for instance; the alarmed look in his eyes, and the gentle frown of resignation on his face. Bob wasn't expecting to hear anything in return. Moreover, it wasn't a _proposal:_ just a statement, one that asked nothing in return.  
  
Maybe just realizing that frightened him.  
  
Sighing, his hands braced either side of Bob's head. His thumbs jammed between his teeth to pry his mouth open, and he adamantly nudged the tip of his cock inside. It only took that long to steal Bob's attention and wipe the concern off his face.  
  
One Two prying his mouth open and coaxing his cock inside? Yeah, that got Handsome Bob lightheaded enough to forget _anything_.  
  
"Don't think," he murmured downward, surprisingly gently for a man currently shutting up his pal with a mouthful of cock. He felt his jaw slacken to accommodate his girth. Consolation was leagues away from One Two's M.O., but for his friend, he'd be damned if he didn't try and ease the hurt somehow.  
  
He met Bob's eyes and grazed his cheek. "I'm right here. Right now, you have me."  
  
Something about the phrase seemed to pacify him. Bob let his eyes slide shut, and when his palms braced themselves against One Two's bare thighs, he felt the heft of them greedily. His neck arched, his throat relaxed, and he guided the rest of One Two's length to the back of his throat with a surprisingly well-stifled gag.  
  
Snug, slick, and hot as anything. To put it simply, it felt fucking incredible.  
  
He felt him start to suck, knees abruptly weakening from the sensation. The wall behind him became more and more necessary for to support his own weight, and much to his own surprise, the need to think of England simply wasn't there. His eyelids fluttered, losing himself in the wet heat and suction of Bob's mouth. He felt him retract slowly to breathe in, popping off his cock with a guiltily satisfying slurp. A pleased shudder ran up his spine as Bob stroked him with a spit-lubed hand.  
  
"Wow." One Two swallowed thickly, winded. "You get a lot of practice?" Intended tease, accidental compliment.  
  
Bob smiled up at him cheekily. "I've been around," he said, circling the head with his palm. "This is fun. You squirm more than I thought."  
  
He dove back in before One Two could get a word in, inadvertently proving his point as his feet twisted and scuffed against the concrete floor. He was shivering, he was burning, just about losing his mind—and he was seconds away from shooting his load down his best mate's throat.  
  
God, this was gay. Why wasn't that fact as deterring as it should be?  
  
"Shit," he muttered, unthinking stroking the top of Bob's head as he felt his pace pick up. "Yeah. Yeah, don't stop—fuck, _Bob, just like that—_ " he babbled, and he could have sworn he felt the lips around his dick shift slightly to accommodate a smile. He couldn't be arsed to mind, brow already knit and mouth wide open to gasp.  
  
Then, strongly enough to feel himself choke ineloquently on air, he came. He shoved himself greedily far down Bob's throat.  
  
Bob's face tensed. His Adam's apple bobbed, swallowing without complaint. One Two couldn't help but watch, staring groggily still as he withdrew to cough softly against the back of his hand. "Fuck," he remarked hoarsely, satisfaction evident on his face. "Either you're real overdue or you owe me some _big_ fuckin' ups."  
  
As One Two leaned against the wall, spent and wet and sweaty, he enjoyed the way his afterglow temporarily dulled the inevitable guilt. His eyes stayed shut, aware that letting his own relaxed state slip away meant opening the door to a whole arsenal of regret.  
  
"You pass." he finally forked over, winded.  
  
Bob laughed. "I _pass?_ Bullshit."  
  
It was good to hear him laughing. For a second there, he wasn't sure _how_ to bring Bob out of his own head, and the light in his face successfully postponed the seed of regret already agitated in his stomach. As he tugged his briefs up with his thumbs, he paused to deliver two playful pats to the side of Bob's face. "Congrats, Bobski." He smirked. "You really can give some passable head."  
  
Bob snorted softly, and for a moment, both of them caught their breath. It was fragile, the air between them—like whoever spoke next set the precedent for where they stood, friendship-wise. As Bob's little confession still went loosely acknowledged, both of them understood a new elephant in the room.  
  
Bob made it easy. Almost too easy.  
  
He stood and brushed himself off, thankful for the darkness of the club. It cloaked his body handsomely, especially in the case of the notable tent in his trousers. "Alright," he exhaled, tugging One Two's belt back into shape unceremoniously and giving him a dismissive smack on the hip. "I'm off first. You pop out in fifteen, unless you want to raise any eyebrows."  
  
One Two stared, surprised by the apparent apathy.  
  
"What?" Bob asked.  
  
"So you don't need to talk about—" He gestured awkwardly, lips pursed. "I wasn't gonna _offer_ , but—"  
  
Bob squinted. "What else is there to say?" he countered, offering a shrug of his shoulders and a less-than-convincing sort of smirk. "You're fine. Tidy yourself up, though, will you? Restroom at your left. You look shit." With one more affectionate pat to the upper arm, he ducked out from their little corner to weave back into the crowd. One Two watched him go.  
  
He hesitated, like waiting for the credits of a movie.  
  
_That was it?_  
  
At a loss, One Two's head thudded back against the wall. His brain spun with what his eyes couldn't forget, even as he stared up at the ceiling. Bob on his knees between his legs, drooling, huffing. Bob's lips dragging down his cock, the sound of his voice proclaiming an entirely too confident, husky-voiced, _'I love you,'_ eyes burning with certainty _—_  
  
Jesus. His heart ached. As he ran his hands up his sweaty face, he groaned softly into his palms and lamented for a second time. _What was Bob doing to him?_


End file.
